


La Belle et le Psychiatre

by KristinStone



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Episode: s03e04 Aperitivo, F/M, Family, Fluff, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Post-Episode: s02e07 Yakimono, Rating for later chapters, Trauma, Warnings May Change, non-sexual relationship at first
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 12:08:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8445271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KristinStone/pseuds/KristinStone
Summary: Losely based on a prompt I found on tumblr years ago.After his recovery after Miriam Lass, Frederick has to take smaller steps and resignes his position as head of the BSHCI. Just as he collects the last personal things from his former office, he finds Belle.She is homeless and pregnant, even worse in labour. Frederick comes to her rescue and drives her to Johns Hopkins where she gives birth to her beautiful daughter, Clara.But since Belle is homeless, she can't keep the child. That is until Frederick suggests they stay with him for a while. Will he regret his decision sooner than he thought?





	

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was edited by the wonderful Sophiablue90 who's a wonderful friend and a great help when I had to figure some things out. Thank you sooo much!

His wounds had healed but the scars remained, a painful reminder that he had too often underestimated his opponents. First Abel Gideon, then Miriam Lass, well, Hannibal Lecter. Frederick's body was broken but it would take much more to break his mind. Still, he would be a fool if he didn't learn from his mistakes.

In accordance with the hospital's board he had ''handed in'' his papers to leave his position as head of the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane by the end of this year... which was in two weeks. Today he had finally mustered the strength needed to leave his new, safe house and collect the last few personal items from his former office.

Frederick had chosen the evening shift in order to avoid coming into contact with too many of his former employees. Most of them hated him and the ones who didn't would probably pity him and that was even worse in his mind. And he had already received enough blank stares when he had to see his attending doctor to check on the healing process of his wounds. When he had been told that he seemed to have unusually quick healing abilities judging by the relatively short recovery time, Frederick had almost mustered a sneered retort but his headaches had been extremely irritating that day so he simply acknowledged the doctor's statement with a small nod.

Talking still hurt as he tried to get accustomed to the metal in his face. Thankfully he didn't have many people to talk to since he had been wrongfully framed as a cannibalistic murderer and psychopath. It was impressive how many of his associates actually thought him capable of such horrors. They say it takes tragedy to separate the fakers from the sincere but in Frederick's case, it was almost a mockery how few people were left after the smoke had finally cleared.

In rehab after his shot wound, they had also focused on his limping so he was no longer in need of his flashy cane. He had broken it in half as soon as he knew he would never need it again. Frederick would've never been able to carry the box with his books and the dried out peace lily that had seemingly died during his long absence, if he'd still needed his cane.

He walked over to his new car. The old one was still evidence after the killing of the two FBI agents in his kitchen. And even if he could've claimed it back, he would've never been able to forget the last time he had sat behind the steering wheel with his hands and clothes covered in someone else's blood. His new one was far less impressive and more a means to get somewhere rather than to attract attention. His scarred face was already doing a fine job with that.

The sun had set half an hour ago. He had hoped to be ''home'' again before dusk. With his impaired eyesight, he was technically not allowed to drive after nightfall but who would stop him?

Frederick reached the trunk of his car and searched his pockets for the keys. He sincerely hoped he hadn't left them in his office. The looks of the night guard and orderlies had already been enough once. He really didn't need that again.

Frederick frowned when he suddenly thought he heard muffled crying coming from the illuminated sign of the BSHCI by the entrance of the parking lot. His past had made him suspicious and cautious but he still followed the whimpers coming from the darkness. He held his keys like a knife, ready to defend himself if need be. A weak attempt by a half-blind, broken man but enough to give him the courage to even start moving his feet. Slowly, the cries got louder and when Frederick finally saw the source of the noise, he froze.

On the cold and wet concrete sat a crying, young, and... heavily pregnant woman. Her face was red with tears streaming down her cheeks. She held her tight belly and in the light of the sign Frederick could make out a large, wet spot between her legs.

“When did your water break?” he heard himself ask and startled the girl on the ground.

“Are you a -ah!- a doctor?” she panted and stared up at him with puffy, blue eyes.

“Yes, but not the kind you need.” Frederick could hardly believe how calm he was, his voice almost foreign to his ears. He knelt down next to her before continuing, “Why are you here? This isn't a hospital for child birth.”

She cried through a heavy contraction, grabbing his hand and squeezing it almost painfully tight.

“I told the taxi driver to get to the next hospital. I don't think he was a real driver. I... I didn't have any money so he kicked me out.”

Frederick listened quietly and shook his head over the almost criminal indifference of the taxi driver.

“Please, please I need a doctor,” the girl sobbed right before another contraction ripped through her body. If they came this regular already, she needed to get to a hospital quickly. Frederick nodded and stroked his thumb over the back of her sweaty, shaking hand before carefully helping her up.

“I'll take you to a hospital.”

She shook her head and a veil of red hair covered her strained face. "I don't have enough money. I don't have a home. They'll take my baby away.“

He soothed her as well as he could while guiding her over to the passenger door of his car. “We'll figure something out.”

Once she slid into the seat and suffered through a new, even worse contraction, she pointed to where she had been sitting and choked out, “My bag, I... I need my bag. It's all I have.”

Frederick looked over his shoulder and retrieved the hiking rucksack that had been lying beside her. It was pretty heavy and he was certain pregnant women shouldn't be carrying such weight.

“Thank you,” she breathed and closed her eyes, finally being out of the cold and hopefully in good hands,

“Who are you?”

Frederick sat down behind the steeling wheel and thought for a moment. His name had been all over the Baltimore news thanks to Freddie Lounds and the FBI. He didn't want to scare her by thinking she was sitting in a psycho's car.

“Frederick,” he settled on that as his answer eventually and turned the keys, “And your name?”

She gritted her teeth against the sharp pain raging through her and pressed out a weak whimper, “Belle.”

“Do you want me to call someone, Belle? Your family or the father of your baby?”

She shook her head violently and dug her nails into the interior panelling of the car. “My father kicked me out when he found out that I was pregnant.”

“And what about the child's father?”

Belle remained silent and just shook her head again.

“What about friends? You can't be completely alone on this planet.”

Now she started crying and not just from the pain. Frederick really had a way with women. Thankfully, the distance to the closest, real hospital, Johns Hopkins, wasn't too far so they made it there in little to no time.

“I need your full name for the front desk,” he said calmly as he helped her over to the entrance doors.

“But I can't pay them. They'll take my baby if they find out I'm homeless. I don't have an address for them.”

“They won't take your child. I'll figure something out, but I need your complete name, Belle.”

She looked at him pleadingly. Her hands clutched her huge belly and she seemed painfully torn between trusting him or taking a chance and running away to give birth alone. Frederick soothed his hands over her tense back, feeling the moisture of her sweat even through her thick wool sweater and down vest. He looked deeply into her desperate eyes and hoped she would stay, for her's and her baby's sake.

“I promise, you won't lose your child.”

A young, dark skinned nurse, who had spotted them through the glass entrance doors and hurried outside with a wheelchair to bring them to the 8th floor for registration and triage.

“Isobel Atwood,” Belle finally answered with a heavy groan and sweat dripping from her furrowed brows.

He nodded approvingly and wanted to let the nurse bring her into the delivery room alone but Belle grabbed his sleeve with a terrified look on her glistening face. She seemed so scared but why did she look at him for help? The nurse said something soothingly along the lines of being in good hands here at Johns Hopkins but her eyes grew almost panicked when she felt him move his sleeve out of her iron grasp while another contraction built up inside her.

“Please, don't go away.”

Frederick was stuck. This girl was so scared of the prospect of losing her child to the authorities that she was asking a stranger, one that looked like a patched up voodoo victim, to come with her while she gave birth. His heart, having been beating uncharacteristically calm up to this second, sped up and hammered against his ribs. He couldn't do this! This was too private. The birth of a child that wasn't his flesh and blood wasn't his place to be.

The nurse regarded him with a knowing look, but she knew nothing. “All daddies-to-be are at least as nervous if not more than the mothers we see here every day.”

Daddy-to-be? He wasn't even a daddy-to-not-be! He had brought her to hospital and would make sure that she could keep the baby before vanishing into the darkness again. He was fucking Batman only without the playboy image... and the batcave and all that jazz. Frederick opened his mouth to object but Belle's sharp scream cut him off before the first syllable could cross his lips.

“Okay, sweetheart, let's go and help your baby out, okay?”

The nurse rolled the wheelchair over to the elevators with a stunned Frederick in tow. Visions of what would happen in front of his eyes if he didn't hit the breaks now flooded his brain. He had almost puked in his first year of med school over 10 years ago when they had been shown a mere video of childbirth.

Frederick couldn't breathe properly, his hands became sweaty and started to shake. He couldn't do this! He wasn't supposed to be here with a suffering woman who could be _his_ child!

When the elevator doors opened and the nurse proceeded to continue to the gyneacological wing, Frederick didn't move an inch. Belle stared up at his stern-looking face and eventually let go of his sleeve. She thought for a moment and almost got up from the wheelchair if not for the nurse's hand on her shoulder.

“It was just a false alarm. I feel much better already. I'm sure it was just cramping” Belle sputtered and wanted to leave again. She couldn't do this without him and he had promised to help her. She shouldn't have trusted him. He was just like every other man, Belle thought bitterly and felt tears rising up behind her eyes.

Her flight was stopped short by the worst contraction yet. For a second she couldn't breathe anymore and had to bite her teeth tightly together to keep up her act of ''false alarm''. She reached for her backpack in Frederick's hands but was promptly but gently pushed back into the wheelchair by him.

“Your water broke. This isn't false alarm, Belle,” he said sternly and had finally woken from his horrifying stupor.

“C'mon, Belle -right?- you don't have to worry,” the nurse tried to reassure her with a soft smile and tender tone in her voice. They finally left the elevator with his hand back in Belle's iron grasp.

“Would you like your husband to be in the room when the baby comes?”

“We're not married,” Frederick quickly corrected her when Belle didn't answer, breathing against the pain in her lower belly.

“Oh, that's not a problem. You can still come with her and be there when your baby is born.”

He wouldn't be any help, instead probably even faint or vomit when they reached the hot phase. Frederick shook his head, “I'll stay outside in front of the door, maybe take care of the paperwork and such. I would only be in the way in there.”

His voice was hoarse and didn't even sound like his own anymore. Belle's head quickly turned around to him.

“Don't leave me,” she whispered scared.

Okay, he was a psychiatrist. He could handle patients with anxiety. Just... treat her under that premise, he told himself and took a deep breath. Frederick leaned down to Belle, keeping his ''good'', right side towards her, whispered in the calmest voice he could muster right now, “I'll be right in front of that door and take care of everything. You just have to concentrate on the baby and yourself, okay?”

She nodded quickly and squeezed his hand tightly one last time before letting go before the nurse rushed her into one of the delivery rooms.

Alright, now he could lose it and start freaking out. What the hell was he doing here? The nurse thought he was the expecting father, being the girl's... boyfriend? He had always hated that word and especially when it didn't apply. He would have to tell someone how it had really happened. He had acted correctly, had brought her to the next hospital and would probably pay for this whole procedure to make sure she could leave with her baby safe and sound in her arms in a couple of days.

Frederick scanned his surroundings. Down the hallway with its muted yellow colored walls were two other men, pacing the squeaky linoleum floor. The younger one was chewing gum like it was an olympic sport while the other looked almost bored, making his rounds up and down the hallway. He couldn't imagine how nervous they were when he was ready to sit in the corner, crying and rocking himself even though Belle wasn't given giving birth to _his_ child.

Frederick sat down on one of the classic 80's padded chairs in front of Belle's room and prepared for quite a long waiting time. Of course he would have to go and register them but right now he needed a minute or two to calm down again. He shouldn't be worried about her. Belle was young and seemed healthy. She should be fine. Maternal mortality rate was pretty low in America and Johns Hopkins was a good hospital.

Rationally, he could calm himself down but he still regarded the what-ifs: What if she died during birth and he was left to take care of an infant? What if the people actually believed he was the father? Or what if not the mother but the baby didn't survive? Would he be able to console a homeless stranger who had just lost her child to cruel fate?

True he had some experience with trauma patients but most of the time he could relate to the traumatic event but this time? Frederick couldn't imagine the cold emptiness and pain a mother felt after carrying a baby for nine months and then lose it before they could even get to know each other. Maybe he didn't even want to imagine all of this. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.

“Your first one?” a voice from his left suddenly asked and startled him a bit. The calmer of the two expecting fathers sat beside him and offered him a strip of peppermint gum. Frederick politely refused and thought about his answer for a moment. Somehow it was his first, but not really. He settled on a nod to avoid further questions and wanted to return to his thoughts but the other man seemed to be in need of conversation.

“You don't look nearly as nervous as I was when we had our first, Alex.” He nodded over to the pacing man at the other end of the hallway. “That's more what I looked like. A nervous wreck, biting my nails bloody and anxiously waiting for the door to finally open.”

He shook his head at the memory and huffed a small laugh. “It's our third. Hopefully it won't take much longer. I'm waiting two hours now.”

“Why aren't you inside with your wife?” Frederick asked and hoped his voice didn't sound too strange with the dental prosthesis holding up his face. The man only laughed and ran a hand over his neck.

“I can't see blood. The last thing Laura needs in there is someone who blacks out when the baby finally comes.”

Frederick nodded slowly. He could definitely understand him. He glanced at the third man literally biting his nails and and murmuring something into his hands.

“So, why aren't you pacing the floor?”

He needed another moment before he replied, “Internally I am. I'm just good in masking it, it seems.”

Nowadays at least due to the partial immobility of the left side of his face, he sneered internally.

“Oh, I wish I could do that. Sometimes Laura tells me that I'm more hysterical than her on her worst pregnancy-hormones-driven days”, he laughed again, a warm but nervous laugh, and suddenly stopped when the door by the end of the hallway opened and a nurse with curly, blonde hair stuck her head out. Frederick's new neighbor shot up from the chair and hurried to see his wife and meet his newborn.

Frederick was glad he was alone again with his thoughts although he was less panicky now. He looked across the hallway to the door Belle had disappeared behind and then remembered that he still had her giant backpack with him. The medical personnel probably thought it was her hospital bag which was true... somehow. He made sure nobody was watching him before slowly opening the zipper of her rucksack. Maybe he could find out a bit more about her.

There were a couple of clothes, a wallet with her driver's license confirming her name as Isobel Catherine Atwood and her age, 24 years. She had celebrated her birthday only a month ago. There were only a few coins, maybe a dollar in total. Frederick couldn't remember if he ever had that little in his wallet. Well, he had always had money on his bank account, in the safe or in his trust fund. He had never known hunger or been homeless and would never be, even if he made the wrong choices at the stock market or gave half of his belongings away with the intention of never working again.

Apart from her wallet and dirty smelling clothes, he also found an expensive looking, black leather folder, thick and heavy as if it was completely filled with documents. Interesting. When he peeked inside, he was surprised at what he found: Sketches of dresses and costumes with little detailed notes and character traits, text fragments that seemed like they just needed to be put into the right order to create a plot, ripped out pages from theater magazines with job ads for seamstresses and costume designers. It didn't seem like she had had much success with the job hunt if she was still homeless and as poor as a church mouse.

And he found something else too. Right at the back of the folder, Frederick found a picture of a woman with a brightly smiling, red haired girl sitting on her lap. Probably Belle and her mother, he assumed and turned to the last page in the folder: her enrollment certification for costume design studies. So, she was a designer-to-be with a baby on the way.

But no matter how many times he flipped through the pages, he never found any addresses or numbers of friends or family, not even a phone he could've searched for some clues. Frederick would have to ask her as soon as he could go in again and God only knew how long he would have to wait for that. There had to be someone he could call for her, to take care of her. He had done his duty and had brought her to a hospital. Nobody was really that alone.

He groaned when he remembered that his emergency contact was his lawyer. Frederick was just as alone as Belle, only that he had enough money to ''buy'' himself someone who cared.

Still, there had to be a father to the baby or a best friend of hers. Where was her mother? But what if she was really just as alone as he was? How much does a natural birth cost? It couldn't be that much, right? He didn't know. He had insurance that covered most medical expenses and he had made good use of it over the last three years.

Yet, Frederick was optimistic that it wouldn't ruin him if he took over the costs. Maybe he wouldn't be able to have his expensive favourite imported rice for a few months but he was confident he would manage that little sacrifice. And all with the knowledge that he was helping someone who was desperately in need of a helping hand. Well, two someones if he was exact.

After his first injury at the hands of Abel Gideon, he had pretty much lost all hopes to ever find himself in front of a delivery room, waiting to be called inside to see his child for the first time. He had also never considered what he'd have to buy and learn how to prepare for a baby coming into his life. All the things the child would need to be warm, dry, and well fed. A bed, changing table, diapers, clothes every two weeks because babies grew like nobody's business, a stuffed animal as a best friend and defender against nightmares, a mobile above the bed, toys, a trunk full of pacifiers.

Frederick let out a heavy breath. How could a homeless woman provide all that? And it was winter, true not a very cold one thanks to global warming but still too cold for a tiny baby. He looked down to the photograph of young Belle and frowned. What went wrong between this picture and today? Was there really nobody she could've turned to? Shouldn't quarrels be easily buried when the life of an innocent baby was involved? No fight could be beyond repair under that light.

But maybe Frederick wasn't the best example for that himself. The last time he had spoken with his father had been when he had confessed that he was changing his major to psychology. Five years after that his father had died of liver cancer after never exchanging another word with his son. So many things had remained unspoken, unresolved. He didn't want that for Belle and her baby, or anyone really.

Frederick would try to convince her that whatever happened between her and her family was nothing in the light of the life that was literally _just_ beginning.

But if he couldn't help mending things, he could still offer her a place to stay for a couple of weeks until she had found something for herself and the child. His new house definitely had enough rooms for her to stay there without even meeting him if they tried to live separate lives.

He put Belle's belongings back into her backpack and pulled out his phone, ignoring the usual phone ban in hospitals, and typed all the necessary things he had listed earlier if he should decide to offer them a home until Belle would find a place to stay. But maybe he was getting ahead of himself and let his mind run away with the idea of being someone's knight in shining armour. He looked like a creature from a tunnel of horrors. He'd been good enough to bring her here but thinking that she would even talk to him now that he had served his purpose, was just stupid.

Frederick slid deeper into his chair and put his phone back into his coat. Why was he even here? This was downright pathetic! He was playing the hero, just to feel a bit less useless. He closed his eyes and folded his arms over his chest, waiting for the nurse to tell him that he could come inside. Did they really think that someone as beautiful as her would even look his way, let alone have sex and start a family with him? Should he tell the truth or just let them believe it? It was probably easier even if not really plausible. He was a monster twice her age. Maybe they thought she was a gold digger but what did he care?

Frederick suddenly remembered what he had promised Belle. He should go to the front desk and get the paperwork out of the way for her. With a sigh he stood up and hoped that while he was on his way to register her, her labour wouldn't be over and then think he had left her alone. He placed her backpack under the chair but took her driving license for her information.

The old nurse by the front desk on the floor wordlessly handed him a register form and a pen that didn't work so he had to use his own, fancy one and earned himself an arched eyebrow by the underpaid nursing staff. He copied as much information he could find from her license but was lost when it came to blood type, former gyneacologist, or closest relative.

“She has a tense relationship with her family,” Frederick answered the questioningly arched eyebrow when he handed the form back to the nurse.

“You wanna sign the birth certificate in hospital or at home, sir?”

“Ehm... do I have to decide now?”

“No, 'course not. Just come here when you know it, but it's much quicker when you fill it out here.”

Frederick only nodded and returned to his seat in front of Belle's room. It bugged him that he couldn't hear a single sound through the thick door. That way he could've somehow guessed if he could go and get a cup of coffee or better start freaking out because everyone else was too. He really hoped everything was going smoothly in there. It must've been hard enough for her to be homeless and expecting. God, the horrors she must've gone through if she was really all alone in such a situation.

But Frederick didn't have much more time to ponder over that when suddenly the door in front of him opened and the nurse from earlier looked at him with the widest smile a woman had ever sent his way.

“Congratulations, you are the father of a beautiful, healthy girl,” she announced happily and waved for him to come inside. Frederick felt his heart drop into his stomach. He was suddenly feeling sick and was certain he would throw up any moment now. He wasn't that baby's father! He had to tell someone! Fuck!

Why were his feet moving? Why was the door coming closer? Why was he picking up her rucksack and walking into the delivery room? He was sure he looked absolutely terrified with sweat breaking out on his forehead and his breath coming out in small puffs rather than a in regular, healthy rhythm.

The room was just a blur to him. Frederick didn't even see the medical personnel as he cautiously approached the bed in the center of the delivery room. There they were; Belle and _her_ daughter. A few red strands were curled at her sweaty hairline and her former open hair was now up in a very, very messy bun to keep it out of her face. She looked down to the small, pink bundle cradled in her arms. With her face showing no sign of pain and panic, Frederick was shocked how utterly beautiful Belle was. She looked so content with her child that he almost felt like he was out of place here and only disturbing their happy, little moment together.

Just as he decided he should leave because _this simply wasn't his fucking place_ , Belle turned her head towards him and smiled. If he had thought the nurse had beamed at him, she was putting her to absolute shame right now. Frederick was certain he had never seen such unfiltered happiness in his entire 44 years. He felt his left cheek twitch when he unconsciously smiled back at her.

Slowly, Frederick closed the distance between them and let his eyes wander down to the baby girl, wrapped in the typical blush-pink blanket around her tiny body. Her eyes were shut, unlike her slightly drooling, pouty mouth. A little patch of dark hair covered her head. It looked an awful lot like his own hair color but so did half the world's population. The nurses behind him said something before leaving the little family alone eventually.

Frederick sat down on the edge of the bed, moving extra slowly and silently to avoid waking the sleeping newborn. Before he could open his mouth to inquire how she was, Belle looked back down to her daughter and whispered the most important eight words he would find out later in his life: “May I introduce you to Clara Louisa Atwood?”

Frederick was speechless, unable to form any words, and kept staring at the baby. She looked so peaceful and content tugged in a warm blanket and pressed against her mother's chest. How unaware she was of all the troubles that her mother had put behind her... and all the ones that lay ahead if he didn't do anything about it.


End file.
